


Junior Enterprise

by Cloudlb



Category: Smallville
Genre: BDSM, First Time, Kink, Leather, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-20
Updated: 2010-02-20
Packaged: 2017-10-07 10:02:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cloudlb/pseuds/Cloudlb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark and Lex develop a business plan. Renaissance Faires and leather.  Craftsman!Clark. Angst free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Junior Enterprise

Clark stared at Ms. Santini in dismay as she continued to outline the semester, trying to remember whatever made him think taking Junior Enterprise was a good idea. Oh, yeah, it would look good on his college applications. Clark looked down at his syllabus, and tried not to freak out.

"So you have several options. The first, and most traditional, is to create a company from scratch, on paper, including a business plan, capitalization plans, annual profit and loss statements, advertising material, human resources policies, and other documentation. The second option is to do the same, but electronically, in a form which echoes how modern business is conducted today. You can come up with an idea on your own, use one of the business opportunities which we will talk about, or even embark on a franchise. You don't have to limit yourself to something you could realistically do. The third option is to really come up with a plan of a business you could start yourself. Say, if you wanted to start a car washing business for the summer months to raise money for yourself for college. You can dream big or start small, it doesn't matter."

Clark groaned. Big or small, he had no idea what he was going to do. It was the second semester of his junior year and he was already taking a full load of classes. Even though the classes were comparatively easy for him ever since he had mastered that speed reading thing, this looked like it was going to be a lot of work. He glanced to the front of the class where Chloe was sitting, already looking enthusiastic. She probably already had her idea already. Clark guessed he would just pick one of the business opportunities so glibly described in their textbook. He flipped through it. Yeah. Carpet cleaning. Or, oh joy, medical records billing. Tons o'fun.

Clark sat down at the lunchroom table where Lana, Chloe, and Pete were already engaged in animated conversation. He pulled his lunch sack out of his back pack and started pulling out items, looking askance at the others' trays of cafeteria food. "What is it today, guys? Yummy, Textured Vegetable Protein spaghetti." Sure, it was dorky to have your mother pack your lunch everyday, but then he was already firmly ensconced as the reigning king of dorkdom at Smallville High. And besides, other people didn't have mothers who packed them homemade meatloaf sandwiches, mashed potatoes, and beef and barley soup in their lunches, not to mention about half an apple pie.

"Mmm, mmm, and finger licking good it is, too, Clark, boy," exaggerated Pete, as he licked pseudo-spaghetti sauce off his fingers. The girls just rolled their eyes.

"So, Clark, what are you going to pick as your business opportunity? I'm going to do an online wedding planner business. Lana's going to help me." Chloe, although a good friend, was clearly asking only out of politeness, more interested in talking about her own idea than finding out about Clark's. It was a good thing he didn't have one.

"I don't know, Chloe. Probably just pick something out of the book. Maybe I'll ask Lex if he has any pointers."

"Oh, are you two talking this week?" asked Chloe, narrowing her eyes.

Clark thinned his lips in exasperation. His friends were way too interested in the ups and downs of his and Lex's relationship. Not that there was one. Relationship, that is. "Yes, we're good. He's doing good. Working hard, relaxing some, you know." After a series of bad patches, caused as much by Clark's fears and temper getting the best of him as by cataclysmic events and meteor madness, Lex was doing much better physically and mentally, and their friendship seemed to be on an even keel. If not without its . . . tensions.

Lana, apparently sensing a still sore spot, changed the subject. "Do you want to come to the Grandville RenFaire this weekend with us?"

"Is that this weekend? Damn, I have to go with my parents to Metropolis to visit my aunt." Pete looked put out.

"Isn't it a little cold out for a Renaissance Faire?" asked Clark. It was January, after all.

Chloe responded, jumping a little in her seat. "They hold it in the County Coliseum. It's one of the only ones indoors and in the winter. It's gong to be really cool. They'll have lots of singers, and belly dancers, as well as craftspeople. We can go in costume. Besides, we get extra credit for history if we go."

Pete groaned, "I knew it. Belly dancers, and I'm going to miss it!"

"Costume? Uh, I don't know, Chloe. I don't think I have anything appropriate to wear." But the girls' heads were already together, comparing notes on appropriate medieval garb. Lana lifted her head momentarily.

"I can drive us. I'll pick you up around 9 on Sunday morning, all right?

"Uh, all right. But no costume for me!" Clark wondered what he was getting himself into.

 

**

 

Actually, Clark thought to himself, this was pretty cool. He was enjoying the sights and sounds of the "medieval" village, even if the faint smell of the annual livestock show lingered a bit in the Coliseum. He supposed that a real medieval village would have smelled much worse, with livestock and other things, anyway. Dodging a group of kids decked out in parti-colored juggler garb, Clark held his barbequed turkey leg up out of the way and made his way through the crowd to where Lana and Chloe were standing, dressed in long skirts and peasant tops in approximation of period garb. After a moment spent watching the belly dancers, he commented, "Are belly dancers really authentic? They didn't have them in Ye Merry Ol' England, did they?"

"No, but they were contemporaneous," Lana replied, clapping. Clark stuck out his tongue at Lana behind her back. They were all busy studying for the SATs and trying to increase their vocabulary.

"Surely they didn't wear those skimpy outfits, though," Clark persisted.

Chloe responded, "Well, probably not, but they're pretty, don't you think? I wonder how they get their hips to move like that." She tried a few practice hip shimmies, and the girls giggled.

"Listen, I'm going to check out the crafts booths for a while. I'll meet you back at the front gate in an hour, okay, if we lose track?" He wandered away from the girls without waiting for a response. Truthfully, he got tired of them now after a while. He wondered if that had anything to do with the fact that he enjoyed looking at the male drummers, and the way their muscles danced beneath their shirtless chests, more than he liked watching the belly dancers themselves. He sighed.

He began to look at the "market wares." There was a lot of variety, here, most of it extremely well made. There were wooden flutes and harps, costume clothing, hats, fairy headdresses, stained glass kaleidoscopes, and tons of jewelry. The Faire people were all dressed in colorful, more or less authentic costumes, and seemed friendly, if a bit bored. Clark liked handmade things. Living on a farm, and enjoying the fruits of hard labor and the simple life, he could appreciate the craftsmanship that went into making some of these things. He was pretty handy himself, if he did say so. The whole thing looked like a lot of fun.

He stopped at a booth selling small leather items. There were some beautiful items here: leather journals, cuffs, pouches, belts, and purses. He looked at the young man behind the booth, who was helping another customer.

"Greetings on this fine day, May I assist you?"

"These are really nice. Did you make them yourself?" Clark asked, widening his eyes just a bit as he noticed how cute the guy was. I'm not flirting, Clark told himself, just asking.

The guy had a smile for him, at least. "No, my honored father and mother make them. Would you be interested in a belt, gentle sir? I have some over here."

"No, thanks, just looking." As the guy turned to answer another customer, Clark lingered, looking at the variety of items and inhaling the smell of leather, which he had always liked. The aroma brought on a sensory memory. Suddenly, he had an idea.

 

**

 

"Clark! What are you doing up in the attic?" his mother called from the base of the attic steps. Various loud thumps and thuds were heard from above.

"Just looking for something. Do you know where--ah ha! Here it is."

Martha went back downstairs, shaking her head. She hoped Clark didn't break anything up there. A few moments later, Clark shuffled into the kitchen, dumping three large and very dusty boxes on her kitchen table.

"Clark!"

"Sorry, Mom. I'll clean it up. I'm just going to take this out to the loft, in a minute, anyway." Clark rummaged in the refrigerator for a moment, bringing out a pitcher of juice.

"What is all this?" she asked, poking gingerly in one of the boxes.

"Remember when I was in seventh grade, and I did that Boy Scout project on saddle making?"

"Of course, I remember. You hung around old man Wilson for months, pestering him to teach you about saddlery. And you won a prize for your saddle. Is this all that old leather working stuff?"

Draining his glass, Clark turned and put it on the sideboard. "Uh, huh. I got an idea while I was at the Renaissance Faire this weekend. Remember I told you that I have to come up with a business concept for my Junior Enterprise class? Well, I thought maybe I would see if I could do like those people at the Faire do. You know, a crafts business, making leather stuff. I remember how much I liked doing it, and I should be able to do it faster, with my abilities, now."

"Well, are you actually going to be making leather goods? I thought your business concept didn't need real merchandise," his mother said doubtfully.

"I know." Clark shrugged. "I dunno--I just thought I'd get it out and see what shape it's in. See if I remember how to do it, stuff like that. If nothing else, I think I could do a business plan for a craft business. Better than medical billing, yuk!"

Martha laughed. "Well, okay, let me know how it goes."

He paid a visit to Mr. Wilson, who was now quite elderly, and living with his daughter and son-in-law. Mr. Wilson was delighted to see him, and took him back into the shed where his leather goods were stored. "Clark, my boy, I want you to have what's left of my leather stock and equipment."

"Oh, no, Mr. Wilson, I couldn't. That belongs to you."

"Got no one else to give it to, boy. The daughter doesn't want it. I was holding on to it, because I couldn't bear to sell it to some stranger, but I'll be glad to give it to you." Mr. Wilson showed him what he had. "I have a lot of medium grade middling sized pieces. You can make some good money making stuff for those Faires, boy. Lots of purses and belts, and bookmarks. But this is really what I wanted to show you." The old man started to reach up to some large flat boxes on a shelf, and Clark pulled them down for him. Opening the first box, exposing beautifully tanned smooth brown leather, he said, "Now this is premium quality Nappa leather, son. Soft as a baby's bottom. You can make high end clothing out of this. I know you've got the touch, boy. I saw it in you. Always wished you would stay and be my apprentice. Now I'm giving you this."

Clark didn't know what to say. In the end, he just said thank you and carted the boxes away. When he got them back to his loft, he looked at the contents more closely. Brown leather, nubby suede, and . . . Clark gasped when he opened the last, largest box. It contained gleaming black leather, thick and carefully wrapped against dust and the elements. He lifted a piece of it out of the box and brought it to his face, inhaling the distinctive aroma. Oh god, he could just imagine wearing a pair of pants made of this. They would be so smooth and squeaky and tight. He remembered one time he had seen Lex dressed to go out in a pair of leather pants, and how good they had looked on him. He stroked the leather, feeling its smoothness and its grain. Clark became aware that he was hard in his jeans and groaned to himself in dismay. First the cute guys, and now the leather. He was in big trouble.

 

***

 

Over the next few weeks, Clark got reacquainted with the skills of leather working. He inventoried his materials and tools, and handed in a preliminary business plan to Ms. Santini, earning a top grade. He started making lists of possible items to sell and sketching out designs. Next, he set up his work area and began working on practice pieces, confirming his suspicion that his strength and speed made working with the leather and completing pieces very easy.

It was while researching his market and possible merchandise on the Internet for his class that he found some things which affected and disturbed him. A search for "leather goods" or just leather resulted in loads of purses, hats, belts, as well as items specifically made for the RenFaire circuit, such as vambraces, extra long belts, drinking cups, and knife sheaths. However, it also yielded . . . other stuff. Stuff which he was embarrassed just to look at. But however much he was embarrassed, he was ten times, no a hundred times, more turned on. Leather harnesses. Leather whips, and paddles, and collars. Leather clothes made to reveal as much as they concealed. And the people wearing them and, and . . . doing things with them. Men doing things to other men.

It wasn't so much that he didn't know those things existed. It was just that he hadn't really thought about them before, didn't know that he liked them. But he did now. Clark wandered around in a daze with a permanent erection for about a week, thinking of the strangely compelling black leather items he saw on the screen and how he could make them, how he could use them. How they could be used on him. He thought about how in control he always had to be. What would it be like to give up that control to another, even if just for a short time? He started wearing a black leather strap tied around his wrist, under his shirts. It was a constant reminder of those things. His friends at school didn't notice anything out of the ordinary; they just thought he was being a spaz, as usual. Lex, however, did notice something was up. Lex always noticed.

A month or two after he started the project, Clark sat at his workbench working on some leather journal covers. He had perfected an assembly method, and with his speed, was building some respectable inventory quantity. He slowed down to human speed when his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hello, Clark."

"Oh, hi, Lex," Clark responded a little guiltily. He had been preoccupied lately and hadn't spoken to Lex in . . . how long?

"I was just wondering how you were doing. I hadn't heard from you in a while," Lex's voice was gently chiding.

"I know, Lex. I'm sorry. It's just that I've been working on a project for my Junior Enterprise class, and it's kind of taken up most of my spare time."

"Junior Enterprise, huh? Is that where the upperclassmen get jobs at DQ?"

"Lex! No. We're supposed to come up with a business concept, make a business plan, advertising, all that. It will look good on my college applications," finished Clark rather lamely, realizing how silly it was to be talking to Lex, of all people, about faux business plans.

"Oh, I see. Very admirable. Is there anything I can do to help out?"

Clark felt relieved. He hadn't wanted to ask Lex for help, since the whole "favors" thing was still kind of a sore spot between them. But since Lex had offered . . . "Actually, I could use the help. I have a concept--well, it's more than a concept. It's something that I can actually do, I think, to make some extra money for college, and I could use a knowledgeable opinion. I could also use some help with some photography for my marketing shots."

"That's great. You know I'd be glad to help. If you're not doing anything Saturday, why don't you come over after dinner and you can tell me all about it. I'll get out the digital camera." Lex actually sounded eager.

"Okay, that would be a big help. I just, uh . . . hope you don't think it's too silly. It's not a huge moneymaking enterprise or anything, just a little side business."

"We all have to start somewhere, Clark. See you Saturday." Lex hung up abruptly, as he was apt to do. Start somewhere, thought Clark, fingering the black leather strap around his wrist. Yeah.

 

**

 

By Saturday, Clark was a nervous wreck. He had his inventory ready to show to Lex, both his regular inventory, and his . . . other inventory. He fussed with his clothing choices, like a girl (or a gay man, Clark thought) and lingered in the shower to jack off in an effort to calm down his wayward libido. He packed up his samples in two large plastic bins, and said goodbye to his parents after dinner.

"What time will you be home, son?" questioned his dad.

Clark hesitated on the doorstep, his arms full of the samples. "I don't know, Dad, Lex promised to help me take pictures of the merchandise for marketing, and I brought the business plan for him to go over. You know him, how thorough he his. We may not finish tonight. I, uh, brought a change of clothes just in case I stay over."

Jonathan glanced at Martha, noting her subtle signals, but just sighed. "I think that would be all right. Just be sure and call us if you do decide to stay. I'll need the truck at 11 to go into town in the morning."

Smiling brightly, Clark just said, "Thanks!" and beat it out of there in a hurry before they could change their minds. That was a close one!

"I must admit I'm very curious about your business, Clark," began Lex, eyeing the bins now sitting on the coffee table in the personal den adjacent to his bedroom. "Why don't you give me your pitch."

Clark suddenly got very nervous. He fingered the leather strap around his wrist, now an unconscious habit. What was he thinking, trying to pitch a business to one of the sharpest business minds in the country? Then his teenage-boy-mind noticed the word, "pitch" and wondered if Lex would be willing to "catch." Oh, that mental picture so wasn't making things any easier. He cleared his throat.

"Uh, well, it's just an idea I came up with. For the class, you know. We had to come up with a fictitious business plan, on paper, or in e-format, or a real one. I was going to go with medical billing, but, you know, that seems really dull, and I, uh . . ." Clark was babbling.

"Relax, Clark. I'm just a friend giving you a second opinion, remember?" Lex smiled at his friend.

"Okay." Clark took a deep breath. "Well, you know those Renaissance Faires that they have, where people sell crafts and things?" Lex nodded, encouragingly. "Well, I went to one in Grandville in January, and it was really cool. They had a lot of leather items, and I remembered when I was in seventh grade and learned harness making and how to work leather from Old Mr. Wilson the saddler, and how much I liked it and I even won a prize and. . . "

"Clark! Calm down, Jesus. Here, have a root beer." Lex got up and got a soda out of the small refrigerator in the wet bar and refreshed his own drink. Handing the soda to Clark, he directed: "Now, slower."

Drinking his soda, Clark had to laugh at himself. What a spaz. "Here, maybe you should just look this over, first." Twisting around in his chair across from Lex to dig in his backpack, he handed Lex a folder. "It's my business plan. And - " Clark opened the lid of the first bin, and started to lay out the items.

Lex's gaze sharpened as he looked over the things Clark was setting out. He picked up a leather journal, with a worked leather figure of a fox set with tiger eye in the cover. Running his elegant fingers over the cover, he said, "This is really nice, Clark. Did you make this?"

"Yep. I told you, Mr. Wilson taught me how to work the leather, and when I saw that stuff at the Faire, I remembered how much I liked it." Clark faltered a little, not ready to tell Lex exactly how much he liked it, but willing to hint. "I like making things with my hands, and the leather, its . . . "

"Sensual?" Lex offered, looking at Clark with a lush and secret smile.

Clark blushed to see that, wondering if Lex was following the direction of his thoughts. "Um, yeah."

"I often find it so." Lex sipped at his drink and fanned casually through the business plan. "I see you plan to market both through the fair circuit and over the Internet. I think that's a good idea. Widens your market considerably. But, would you be able to keep up with the amount of inventory required with an Internet venture?"

"I think so. I have my techniques and styles worked out, and I plan for most of this to be a summer job. I can sell through an already set up e-store, or through Ebay. That way I won't have to maintain my own website and can quit for the school year if I have to. You can see my projected profit on the last page, here." Clark scooted around the table and leaned over Lex to flip to the last page. As Lex was nodding at the spreadsheet, Clark suddenly realized that he was practically draped over his friend. He could smell Lex's scent, subtle cologne and masculinity, and he quickly jumped back. Lex raised his head and looked at him oddly.

"Okay, what did you want to do about the marketing photos. I see you have some clothing here. Do you have a model?"

"A model?" Clark frowned. "Well, the clothes I have made are in my size, because I needed to work out the fitting techniques."

"That's perfect. I can think of no better model than you." Lex leaned over into the open bin and pulled out a pair of brown leather pants and a vest, lined with a shiny bronze material. "Wow, these are quite beautiful, Clark. You really made them? Sewed them and everything?"

Blushing, Clark explained. "Yeah, you know Mom and Dad would never let me play sports, so I had to take Home Ec. I actually uh, have made a lot of my own shirts and things. I'm so big and I'm so hard on clothes and . . . " Clark stammered to a halt. Oh, god, now he's really going to think I'm a girl.

"Whoa, whoa, it's okay, Clark. More than okay. I'm impressed. I can't wait to see these on you." The last was said in what Clark would swear was a bedroom voice. If he knew what that was at all. Lex shifted toward the second bin. "What's in this one?" He started to take the top off.

"Wait!" Clark yelled, panicking, and slapping his hand down on the lid. Lex sat back, startled.

"What, are these the rejects?"

"No! They're just - well, it's an alternate line."

Lex's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, an alternate line?"

"Well, it's good business practice not to put all your eggs in one basket, isn't it?" Clark said, nervously.

"Spouting one of your father's platitudes is not going to sell your business concept, Clark."

"Okay, okay, it's just . . . " . It was now or never. He could do this. Be businesslike! "I'm experimenting with markets other than the Renaissance Faires. My research has told me that there's a lot of potential for these items, and the cost to profit ratio is very high."

Looking steadily at Clark with speculation in his eyes, Lex gestured to the bin. "All right, let's see."

Taking a deep breath, Clark opened the second bin. First he brought out a set of black leather wrist restraints and a buckled collar. Next came a complicated harness made of black leather with gleaming rings and spikes. Not daring to look at Lex, Clark said softly, as he continued to decant assorted paddles, floggers, and other leather gear from the bin, "I became intrigued by this stuff I saw on the Internet when I was researching items. I always did like working with the leather, and realized . . . .," now he did look up at Lex, who was staring at him, transfixed, ". . . that I really, really liked it." Clark was smiling now, as he pulled out a pair of soft black leather pants and a matching sleeveless shirt with mesh inlays and held them up so Lex could see. "Think I could sell this stuff, Lex?"

"Sell it?" Lex's voice was hoarse. "Not unless you're eighteen. Jesus Fucking Christ, Clark." He reached out and took the pants from Clark's hands, rubbing the leather between his hands and inspecting the seams. "This is exquisite workmanship. I've paid thousands of dollars for items inferior to this. Jesus Fucking Christ!" he repeated, a little helplessly.

"I think I may need some help, here, though," said Clark, still nervous, but getting over his fear fast when he saw the way Lex was reacting. "Most of this stuff I've only seen in pictures, for obvious reasons. I was wondering if maybe you could get me some samples of the real things so I can copy the techniques."

Still fingering the leather of the pants, Lex was silent for long moments. Finally he looked up. The look in his eyes was . . . whoa, Clark had never seen him look like that. "Let me get this straight. If that is the appropriate term?" Lex slyly questioned, watching Clark closely.

"Uh, well . . . not precisely appropriate, no." Clark just knew his face was as red as his mother's prize organic tomatoes.

"Right." Lex nodded, slowly. "You want me to order samples of bondage gear so you can copy them, right? And maybe . . . I could offer a little practical guidance? Just so you can ensure authenticity, of course."

"Anything you can help me with, I'd sure appreciate it, Lex." Clark's voice was soft, and full of meaning, and he inched closer to Lex, daring greatly when he put his hand on Lex's knee.

Lex looked down at the hand, then up at Clark, and when he spoke, he sounded strangled. "When do you have to be home?"

"Not until tomorrow, Lex."

"Well then, perhaps a field test is in order. In fact, I think you should try these on. Right now," he said urgently, thrusting the pants at Clark. "Take the shirt, too. I want to see them on you."

"What? You want me to . . . " Clark trailed off when he saw the look in Lex's eyes. It was his Take No Prisoners look, used to dominate rooms full of older, experienced businessmen. Clark was no match for dom Lex, and truthfully, didn't want to be.

"Right now, Clark." Lex moved the bins full of leather goods back on to the floor in order to get a better view, and leaned back against the couch cushions, apparently casually. But Clark could tell, Lex never took his eyes off him. Clark took the clothing and dashed into the bathroom to change.

As he peeled off his clothes and underwear, he looked in the mirror. The light was dim because he hadn't turned on the overhead light, and the shadows of the firelight from the den were reflected in the mirror. His eyes were gleaming, and as he eased the close-fitting leather pants on over his bare hips, and started to lace the fastenings over his semi-hard cock, Clark decided he looked a little wild, like a feral thing. It frightened him a little, but it also excited him. After pulling the muscle-style sleeveless shirt on and doing up the hidden zippers on the side, he bent forward at the waist and mussed his hair up, flipping his head back up quickly. He had seen Chloe do that when she wanted a bit more volume, and deliberately ignored how gay that thought sounded in his head. Straight men didn't know about hair volume, did they? Refusing to primp any longer, he opened the door to the bathroom and stepped out into the den self-consciously.

Lex was sprawled on the couch, absently swishing the business end of a flogger up and down his chest. He stared at Clark intensely for long moments, then brought his other hand up in a swirling motion, indicating that Clark should turn around. Clark spun slowly on his bare feet, peeking at Lex out of the corners of his eyes. Clark was used to hiding his body through misdirection and camouflage, not showing it off, but Lex sure seemed to like what he saw. Clark had spent a lot of time designing and fitting these clothes for his body, and was gratified to see that the effort had paid off.

"My God, Clark, you are so fucking," Lex choked a little. "Beautiful. Hot. I didn't know, well, I knew but . . ." Lex broke off, embarrassed to be caught babbling. "Come here," he said, in a firmer tone. Clark came to him, and started to sit beside on the couch. "No. Kneel!"

Clark kneeled in front of him, feeling his breath speeding up in a way it never did when he was running. Lex leaned over him, picking up the collar from the table, and showing it to him, a question in his eyes. Clark merely nodded, because he couldn't speak if he had tried. When Lex buckled the collar around Clark's throat, Clark squeezed his eyes together, trying to shut out the tears that had sprung up with the intensity of his emotion. He felt as if he had been waiting his whole life for this moment. He felt Lex's hand underneath his chin, bringing his head up. "Clark. Look at me. Is this what you want?"

Clark looked into the eyes of this man who was his best friend, his confidant, his foil. "Yes. Yes, Lex, I want it. Want you."

"Then you have me. And I have you. Only us, you understand?" Clark nodded vigorously. "Come here." Lex tugged on Clark's shoulder, bringing him up to straddle him on the couch. Clark wrapped his body around Lex and leaned over so they were touching all along their bodies, as Lex began to kiss him. The feeling was exquisite; the sound and smell of the leather making him so excited he felt he was going to burst in about two seconds as he rubbed himself all over Lex. Lex was panting harshly, and messily kissing his face and biting his neck.

"Oh, oh, Lex, God, don't stop! I mean, stop!" Clark pleaded, hardly knowing what he was saying, only that it felt so good.

"What?" Lex pushed Clark away.

"I just mean - " Clark laughed a little sheepishly, " - these are my samples. I don't want to ruin them, and I will, if you keep on kissing me like that." Even as he was saying that, he was undulating his body slowly and sensually against Lex, feeling for the first time a hard cock rubbing against his own, unable to stop.

Lex was shaking--shaking! against him, and he took a deep breath as he pulled farther away. "Okay, okay. Come on then, stand up." He stood up as Clark clambered off his lap. "Take off the clothes," he ordered, with a shark's smile. As Clark started to hastily comply, he added, "But leave the collar on. And bring the camera!"

As a nude and panting Clark was led by Lex, by virtue of a firm grasp on his collar, toward the bedroom, he grinned. "Hey, Lex. D'ya think I'll get good grade on my Junior Enterprise project?"

Lex glanced back over his shoulder, and flicked his gaze up and down Clark's body. "Since I'm making a substantial capital investment in the venture, I can pretty much guarantee an A+."

**Author's Note:**

> What would Clark's school lunches be like, after all? And the sewing and Home Ec would also make sense, don't you think?


End file.
